


a most appetizing maid

by mother_hearted



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, Anticipation, Bottom Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, Established Relationship, Fondling, M/M, Maids, Roleplay, Rough Body Play, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:41:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28540470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_hearted/pseuds/mother_hearted
Summary: When a little game between lovers casts Dimitri as the new maid in training, and Claude as the master of the house, Dimitri can only preserve his dignity under his carnivorous employer for so long.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 28
Kudos: 115





	a most appetizing maid

**Author's Note:**

> Blues had an idea and I am easily enabled, so here we are lmao. I've had so much fun writing this fic and got to watch Blues produce the best art for it! Maid Dimitri lovers, this one's for you. 
> 
> Note: there are some NSFW images inserted throughout the fic.

“Call me if you need any help, baby.”

The door clicks shut, managing to sound just as cheeky as his husband. Dimitri stares at it blankly for a few good seconds before snapping out of it, staring down at the bag from the tailors and the assorted boxes Claude brought with it. He’s fresh from the bath, hair still damp, but he feels clean, like a canvas (Claude’s canvas) and dives right into the deep end, opening up the garment bag to find --

“Oh, sweet Macuil,” Dimitri swears. Startled not by the maid outfit, he agreed to it, but the length of the skirt. Is he not leaving anything to the imagination? The fire in his room is roaring but it’s nothing compared to the heat radiating off his face. 

He’s quick to set everything out, less startled by the heels (chunky enough he won’t fall on his face), and the belt that accompanies his hosiery is… pretty. His fingers run over the white pattern of swirls and petite flowers that make up the belt’s design, looking and feeling delicate. Maybe when around Dimitri’s waist and muscled thighs, they’ll make him look and feel delicate too. The belt is new, and he’s only ever worn stockings on their own, but this time Claude won’t be rolling them up his legs. 

The panties packed with the hosiery are similar, floral patterned white lace with a thin waist band connecting the cheeky back to the lace trimmed front, decorated with two tiny bows. He spares a worrying thought on how he’s going to tuck himself into such a small triangle of fabric… and another thought about wearing nothing at all, only to brush it away. 

If he wore nothing under this skirt their play would last as long as Dimitri’s career as a comedian. 

With everything laid out Dimitri can see the maid, the character he’ll be playing tonight. And after eyeing his vanity where his makeup and jewelry are stored, he decides to indulge. If he’s to be someone else, or as Claude is always reminding him, another version of _himself_... Then why not add some flair to this maid who has no idea what he’s gotten himself into?

He’s particular, looking over his colors of eyeshadow while rubbing his thumb over the soft end of his brush. He decides on a light touch of baby blue and two small pats of golden glitter just by the corner of his eyes. He does both out of habit, even if he’ll be putting his eye patch back on. It’s bright today and he’s already squinting, doesn’t want to chance a headache tonight. 

“He never told me what he was wearing,” Dimitri mutters as he applies his chapstick. Claude’s meant to be the head of the house, training, no, _breaking in_ the new maid and Dimitri snorts when all that comes to mind is the overly stuffy and drab butler’s wardrobe. 

He finishes off with a dab of Claude’s cologne behind his ears. It would probably be more appropriate to use something floral and bright… but the warm, spiced scent is comforting. Helps steel some of the nerves that come from not knowing what to expect when he steps out of his bedroom and into their scene. The tiny gold studs he slips into his ears are another comfort, reminding him of the day Claude snuck the gift into his office, left in a tiny box with nothing but a date inscribed in it.

Walking back to their bed, he stares down his panties, wondering if he sighs deeply enough he’ll shrink just enough to fit into them. He doesn’t, of course. They just barely make it over his legs but even if they are small, and his cock and balls print awkwardly through the thin fabric, they feel… heavenly. He looks and feels - dainty. Despite just using his mirror for his make-up, he avoids it completely now, not wanting to risk ruining his mood by seeing himself mid-transformation. 

The garter belt fits him perfectly and Dimitri is overwhelmed looking down at it, seeing how it compliments his panties, draws attention to the shape of his waist (Claude’s hands are always grasping it), and he’s careful, mindful of the small delicate stitching, when he begins to roll his stockings up his legs. 

His fingertips brush the back of his knee and he shivers, thinking of Claude’s fingers doing the same, thinking of how his thumb followed along this inner thigh, brushing his crease, teasing his pubic hair. By the time he finished ‘dressing’ Dimitri, Dimitri was ready to sink down on his cock. He laced their fingers together while he rode him, guaranteeing neither of them would grab his legs and tear his stockings. 

He groans when he sees himself half mast and half out of his panties already. _Settle down._ He quickly thinks of something safe, a thought he won’t spiral from, and settles on his formal attire, heavy and burdensome. It does the trick, cooling him like his motherland freezes him. Dimitri finishes putting on his underthings. 

Sliding the uniform on, Dimitri immediately knows what alterations his wicked husband had done. It’s obscene how his buttons barely keep his top closed, his bosom threatening to pop them off with one ill-timed beath. His skirt falls to the top of his stockings, barely hiding the garters from view. Even the sleeves are cut over the widest part of his biceps. Somehow, tying the apron on and adding it to the ensemble is what makes it real and flustering, identifying Dimitri as an erotic parody of a houseservant. 

His choker, his wrist bands, even the ruffly hair piece, drive it in further. The tie for his hair sits at his vanity, along with his patch, and he finally sees himself. 

He doesn’t recognize the man in the mirror. He is - pretty. 

Heat creeps on his face, staining his ears, and he moves quickly, pulling back his hair, slipping his eye patch on. _Don’t ruin it, don’t look too hard or too long_ , he chides himself.

He’s done. 

Knowing there’s nothing left to do, he takes a deep breath and steps through the door. Their suite has been rearranged, furniture from their sitting room now lining the walls, little pieces plucked and placed to transport Dimitri to his ‘employer’s’ home. Everything is just different enough he has to take it in, impressed by how quickly Claude set everything up. And he doesn’t miss the back of his love’s head, bent over and miming reading a periodical while waiting for Dimitri. 

No. 

The - new maid. 

Unsure of what his opening line should be, he walks into the room and lets his heels do the talking. They click loudly on their hardwood floor, muted only when he steps onto a patch of carpet.

Claude jerks up from the couch, nothing smooth about it at all, and Dimitri can tell he’s in performance mode because his face breaks immediately, gone slack-jawed when he sees Dimitri. Dimitri is no better, shocked by how sleek and trim he looks in his black slacks and shining tipped shoes. The waistcoat over his crisp linen shirt hugs his ribs perfectly. Enamored too, by the careful way he styled his curls. Dimitri’s mouth floods wet with appetite.

He’s two maddening seconds away from being ready to fuck on the sofa just like this when Claude saves them both, hand on his hip while he pointedly coughs into his fist. Watching Claude transform so subtly never gets old, always able to become someone else with only the most minute of details. 

Claude snaps his fingers and points at their wall clock.

“You’re late, honey.”

Dimitri blinks, slightly ruffled by the greeting. 

Gods, he’s really in it now.

“You said no later than a quarter past…” Dimitri glances at the clock and flushes to find himself ten minutes late. “My apologies.” He clasps his hands together and bends at the waist. “Please forgive me… Master.” 

The title melts sweet on his tongue like cinnamon sugar. Claude snaps his fingers again and Dimitri stands back up. His “face” is on but Dimitri can see the pleasure in his eyes, and he drops his shoulders, finally set to play the game Claude has set out for them. 

“The king’s house doesn’t tolerate lateness… but it’s your training day.” Claude’s hands come up when he sighs. “And I don’t have the time to punish you, not if we’re gonna get to everything. Today’s schedule is jam packed and I’m gonna ride you hard, honey.”

Dimitri struggles to hold in his snort but it dies in his throat when Claude approaches him, sharp eyed and smirking, fingers tapping against each other like he can’t contain his glee. With his heels, their difference in height is absurd, and Dimitri is left tipping his chin down to meet Claude’s eye. 

“First thing’s first: uniform inspection.” He winks, somehow making it filthy despite Dimitri seeing him wink all the time. “All the king’s staff are representative of the king’s image, so we can’t have a hair out of place. Let’s see…” He walks around Dimitri slowly, making a show of smoothing a “wrinkle” out of his sleeve, tightening the “loose” bow of his apron strings. The squeeze around Dimitri’s waist has him sucking in a breath that doesn’t make it to his lungs. 

“Is everything appropriate, Master?” Dimitri asks when Claude finishes his slow circle around him. 

“I can’t say.”

“Pardon?”

“I haven’t seen everything.”

He says the word _everything_ with meaning and Dimitri’s fingers tremble when they brush the edge of his frilled skirt. 

“Oh. I... see.”

Claude crosses his arm, merely humming. Content to wait despite having a _jam packed day_. 

Dimitri has exposed every inch of himself to Claude throughout their marriage but he has never presented himself like this. Left feeling like a doll, lifting his skirts to reveal the surprise underneath. Silk and lace and the shape of his cock slowly making itself known the longer Claude looks. Dimitri nearly swears when Claude takes a knee, stroking his chin and leaning in closer.

Will he touch him now? Sneak a finger under one of his garter’s bands? Tell him this is part of his training, to expect to be fondled like a pretty display piece? His duties more than just… cleaning?

“The bows are cute,” is all Claude says, his breath hot on Dimitri thighs before he stands up to make a circular motion with his hands. “Turn around, same thing.”

“Ah. Yes.”

Dimitri moves promptly, startled when Claude’s hand pushes against the middle of his back. Silently telling him to bend over and he flushes fierce when Claude sighs, “Even out your spine, nice and flat, sugar. What kind of maid lacks poise?”

Dimitri mumbles his apologies, shivering when he glances down to see Claude’s feet between Dimitri’s heels. So close, when Dimitri is bent over, body begging for it. He already wants to be touched, it’s unfair when Claude has gotten such an eyeful…! 

But he knows this is what makes it fun, the _surprise_ , the feeling of being at his mercy. Claude allowing Dimitri to be - helpless and pretty and hungry. 

“All right!” Claude slaps his own thigh and Dimitri jumps as if Claude struck Dimitri instead. “You pass, now we can get to work.” 

Work, Dimitri discovers, is being led on a tour through the connecting rooms. Instructed in each of them to properly pull open the curtains and tie them. Claude stands behind him, a step too close to be comfortable, and Dimitri tries to keep his elbows tucked in, to avoid bumping into him. They adjust furniture together and despite lifting his skirts for him not too long ago, Dimitri takes care when he kneels and bends. The fabric of his skirt swishes over his thighs, a constant reminder of how easily a hand could creep underneath.

He has a bad habit of looking at Claude’s hands, and Claude absolutely knows, constantly talking with them, instructing with them. Dimitri half expects him to slip in a crude gesture and pretend it didn’t happen. He’s disappointed when he doesn’t.

“Normally we’d go over buffing and polishing the floorboards but there’s not a mark to be found. Guess you won’t be on your knees today.”

It’s such an easy line but Claude hasn’t stopped looking sinfully delicious and the power of suggestion is enough to get Dimitri resting his hands in front of his skirt. Just in case. 

Claude smirks, winking again. “Don’t think you’re off the hook yet, sweets. We have lots of dirty work left for ya.”

Each new pet name never ceases to get the hairs prickling on the back of his neck. It makes it easy to play the part of a cool faced maid, trying to preserve his dignity under his carnivorous employer. 

“Please show me the way, Master.”

“Of course!”

They end up back in the main room and Claude blatantly sweeps his eyes over him, no shame in telling Dimitri to set his shoulders back properly, not to be afraid to stick his chest out. Dimitri obeys, and heat tickles his face, down to the underside of his jaw when Claude goes on to tell him he must be a faithful type.

“Where did you get that impression?”

“With how the Goddess blessed you?”

Dimitri is quick to turn towards a nearby bookshelf, knowing he can hide his face but not the red tips of his ears. “You’re mistaken. I do not have time for worship.”

“You got a husband?”

Oh. That’s. A surprise.

“Yes.”

He turns back to find Claude taking him in all over again, eyes calculating an invisible equation Dimitri can’t see. 

“Well, that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“Why you don’t have time for worship.”

The implication burns slow inside him until Dimitri feels his belly tingling warm. It gets worse when Claude reaches in front of him to grab his duster, arm brushing against his chest. Dimitri wants him to be _inappropriate._ Give him a little squeeze to curb the fire steadily building inside him. Instead he points at the items he wants Dimitri to dust before handing it over.

“Careful!” he chides. “Look at this craftsmanship. If you broke it, we wouldn’t have enough to repair it even if we took it out of your pay.”

“Really?” he asks, playing the fool.

Claude’s eyes twinkle in response. “That’s right. To make up for it, you’d have to work _long, hard,_ grueling hours. Real back breaking labor.”

Dimitri bites his lip to keep from smiling. Wants to giggle, almost, at how proud Claude is with himself, for not cracking saying such a ridiculous line. Wants to be shown those _long, grueling hours_ for his clumsy hands. 

He’s all too aware of his cock, how it strains against his underwear. He tries not to give himself away, only mildly adjusting his stance when he dusts the next object.

“Slower,” Claude orders. 

“Yes, Master.”

“It’s delicate, just like your tiny delicate waist.”

Dimitri’s face flames, gingerly dusting the glass in front of him. 

“Will you have me dust all of them?”

“I’ll have you,” Claude drawls, drawing out the pause between his next words to make Dimitri sweat. “Finish up this shelf. The rest are fine, spotless. You really are lucky today!”

 _Not lucky enough_ , Dimitri thinks. Pointedly trying to not take the bait and look at Claude’s dick when he notices his hip cocked out. He moves to dust the last piece when he hears something fall beside him and looks down to watch Claude kick it under the gap between the bookcase and the floor. 

“Get that.”

“But you were the one who,” Dimitri starts to argue, only to get cut off by Claude’s sharp tongue.

“Do you want to go home to your husband and tell him you lost your job? All because you didn’t want to pick up a shiny bauble?” 

Dimitri drops the duster on the shelf before he snaps it in two in his hand. His body practically electrified by the way _husband_ sounds like a dirty word, like Claude is offended Dimitri came here dressed in his too short skirt and lacy panties, married and off the menu. The tiniest apology makes it past his lips, afraid he’ll cave and beg Claude to take advantage of him already. He should pretend to care about his modesty but even if he did, his skirt is too short to hold down when he’s on the floor, on his hands and knees. And then on his forearms, back arching when he turns to look under the bookcase. The glass globe sits in clear view but Dimitri pretends he can’t see it.

He wants Claude to look, see how the lace has rubbed up between his cheeks, imagine it’s softness slowly driving Dimitri wild. Maybe he’ll touch him, draw a finger over the back of his garter’s band, and his head is full of maybes when he slowly reaches for the bauble under the bookcase.

The sound of Claude’s zipper being pulled down is deafening. Dimitri feels his heart throbbing between his ears. His mind is an avalanche of images of being taken right here on the floor, Claude shoving and tearing lace to get to his hole. His knees threaten to give out when he imagines Claude holding him by the back of his apron when he fucks him. 

Oh, gods, please, please just.

“Ah, I’m a gold short.” Coins clang together behind him. Dimitri sits up on his knees with a start to find Claude routing around a change purse. He quirks a dark brow at him. “You get it yet, sugar?”

Dimitri gapes, stunned. 

“You bastard,” he curses with no heat and no regard for their play after being tricked. 

Claude only winks at him. Pretends his maid in training didn’t just swear at him when he kneels down to scoop the glass up himself. “Here, honey. I’ll let this one slide for now, with it not even being your first day. Tomorrow though,” he tsks. “I’m expecting perfection, understand?”

Dimitri smooths out the front of his skirt after he gets to his feet. “Yes, Master.”

“Good!” Claude places the trinket back on the shelf, lining it up just right with the others. He crooks his fingers for Dimitri to follow him. “At your interview, you said your speciality was serving tea. I want to see just how good a host you are.”

“Did I?”

“Don’t be shy, make me feel like a king while you fix me a cup.”

Dimitri smiles despite himself, amused at how thorough all of Claude’s little details are. He is the impatient sort… but it is fun. He excuses himself to go collect a tray already set up save for their water still needing to boil. What tea should he serve him? He doesn’t think about it for long. His smile is almost mischievous as he steeps the Almyran Pine. 

“Tea is ready to be served, Master,” he announces when he steps back into the room. 

“Good work and good timing, I’ve just sat down.”

The praise is softer this time, all Claude, and it makes Dimitri want to squirm out of his clothes. He steadies himself with a breath and sets down the tray, quick to reach for his teacup and saucer. Claude catches his hand in his and in this moment he’s his husband, asking silently with a smile if Dimitri wants to continue after cooling off in the kitchen. Dimitri smiles back, mouthing his own silent yes. 

Back in scene Claude chides. “Gentle. You have to handle them with care. Move slower. Like this.” His hand wraps around Dimitri’s, guiding him from the tray to the table. It’s a slow tortuous affair, at Claude’s mercy from saucer to table and cup to saucer. 

Dimitri aches. 

“Yes, Master.”

“What have you prepared for me today?”

“Of course.” Dimitri gives a bow just before presenting the tea. “Today you will be drinking Almyran Pine tea.” Steam attractively wafts up from the tea cup as Dimitri pours. When he’s finished he turns the handle towards Claude. Claude’s eyes flick from the tea cup to Dimitri, and Dimitri is used to it, a habit Claude cannot shake after being poisoned as a child, needing to scan the face of anyone who presents him with food, even loved ones. 

“That’s… an unusual choice.”

“Is it? My apologies, it is from my husband’s homeland and I have acquired a taste for it myself.”

“Ah.”

“Please, enjoy.”

Claude blows on his tea to cool it down. All of his attention moves from Dimitri to his tea cup, grading him with an invisible scorecard. He must pass because Claude nods and takes a second sip. With a wave of his hand, he motions for Dimitri to sit.

“No, no. Not there, those are for guests.”

“Ah, then where would I…?”

For a heart pounding second Dimitri expects for Claude to point at his lap but he points… to his arm rest. 

“Are you joking?”

“Did you know the flavor of the tea changes when the maid starts acting difficult?” 

_I’ll throttle you,_ Dimitri thinks, completely exasperated. He’s too good at this little act. Composing himself with a breath, Dimitri gives a little bow. “Please advise me on my manner, Master.”

Claude sucks in his own surprised breath and quickly coughs to cover it up. 

“Take a seat, I’ll guide you through conversation.”

Dimitri feels ridiculous, pressing his knees tightly together, all in an effort to stay balanced on the armrest. His elbows are kept close to his sides, all while Claude sits comfortably, the master of the house enjoying a quiet cup of tea. 

“How shall we practice…” Claude makes a show of hemming and hawing, keeping Dimitri waiting for longer than he’d like. “Tell me, honey, how long have you been in this business?”

Dimitri answers without thinking very hard. “Formally? Not very long.”

“And how long informally?” 

“My whole life. I have always felt called to serve.”

“That so…” Claude’s lip curls behind his tea cup. “And how long have you been married?”

“Five years.”

“What does your husband do?” 

“His office works with foreign affairs.”

Claude squints, incredulous. “All the money that brings in and yet you’re here working? Something must be wrong.”

Dimitri snorts. “It’s a small office. My husband has a tendency to do his things his own way, regardless of what others say.”

Claude’s eyes shine in amusement, in warning. Dimitri sucks a breath in too late when a hand settles on his knee. His hand is warm through his stockings. Dimitri misses his next question, suddenly dizzy. 

“What?”

“I wonder how he won you, if he’s so preoccupied with work, doing things his own way.” He squeezes his knee, pinky sneaking between his legs. “Or maybe you like that he isn’t home often, hm? Maybe you like your space.”

He’s stroking his fingertips up his thigh now, tantalizingly close to touching Dimitri’s bare skin, and Dimitri’s hunger is made ravenous, eyes watching the back of his hand, the dark hair that creeps over his wrist. 

“That’s, ah…”

“It would be easy that way. To do whatever you wanted. You wouldn’t even have to call it a secret, if he’s never around…”

Dimitri sputters, “Will the king be asking me about my husband?”

Damnably, Claude’s hand stops moving just centimeters away from his bare thigh. His bark of laughter nearly makes Dimitri jump.

“Ask? The king won’t be asking you anything.” He continues to laugh as if Dimitri told a particularly funny joke. “A king asking of his subjects… Ah, you’re a real treat.” Placing his teacup back on its saucer, Claude stands and brushes past Dimitri when he walks by him. Wanting to be touched again, Dimitri stands to follow him without being told. Claude’s nostrils flare when he tosses a look over his shoulder, eyes beginning to smolder when he senses how badly Dimitri wants to paw at him, be pressed against him. 

“Master, I --”

“Your break’s over, sweets. Come here.”

The sudden spike of authority in Claude’s voice gets Dimitri’s cock jerking between his legs. His face burns and he nearly stumbles over in his heels, all the grace knocked out of him.

“Y-Yes?”

“Top shelf, volume three, Aigis. Get it for me.”

Dimitri spares a glance up the ladder and more importantly its rungs, making sure he can make it in his heels. He… should be able to. Any second thoughts are taken away from him when Claude palms the small of his back, pressing into him, making Dimitri’s back arch right before he’s shoved forward. Skittering to a stop, he rights himself with both hands on the ladder’s frame. 

Too horny to care about how ridiculous he looks, he arches his back, sticking out his backside. “Master, the ladder, I am worried about - ah!” Dimitri’s yelp steals the rest of his words, his right cheek stinging after Claude’s spank. The wooden frame creaks in his hands. 

“What did I tell you?”

“Ah!” Claude’s hand lands on his left cheek this time.

“No one is asking you. You’re here to do as you’re told. Up the ladder.”

Dimitri’s teeth nearly cut into his bottom lip when they dig in, struggling to hold himself together a little longer. His voice shakes when he says he understands. Only halfway up does his syrup filled brain realize the view Claude has and imagines it for himself, how there’s no way to hide his cock, unable to be contained by his panties, the already wet head brushing against the back of his skirt. 

“Fuck,” Dimitri whimpers when he gets to the top. 

His legs tremble so hard he expects to hear his bones rattle against each other. For one fearful moment he’s not sure he can make his way back down, has the word _red_ on the tip of his tongue when he realizes Claude isn’t hurrying him along, is instead quietly waiting for him to find his balance. His brow rests against the edge of a shelf and he takes the breath he needs. The book is almost an afterthought before it is tucked under his armpit. He feels - winded when he steps off the ladder.

Claude takes the book without a word, not even bothering to look at it, focused on DImitri. 

“We’ve done all we can out here.” He tosses the book carelessly, pages spilling open when it lands on a nearby chair. “Come with me, sweets.”

At long last they’re back in their bedroom but Dimitri’s brow knits together when he sees the bed unmade, his clothing from before strew across it. He’d put them away earlier, knowing they’d be back. When had Claude done this? 

“Clean this up.”

“Ah, yes…” 

Dimitri barely makes it to the foot of the bed when Claude kicks his feet out from under him. It’s split second control that stops him from correcting his fall, remembering he’s at Claude’s mercy. Left helpless on his belly, he mewls like a kitten when Claude’s hand falls onto his ass, getting a fistful. His arms go dead, strength in his legs vanishing when Claude’s second hand joins, pulling his cheeks apart. 

“Hhh..!”

“Well, well… It took us long enough to get here. You didn’t think your only job was to keep house, did you?”

His hands begin to roam while Claude talks. Dimitri moans into their comforter, weak and needy, drunk under his hands after being denied stimulation for so long. His fingers slip under the bands holding up his stockings, snapping them against Dimitri’s thighs. 

“You really do turn pink everywhere… Heh. I knew you were a treat. Better than any dessert. If you were served to me I’d never send you back. The king wants only the most appetizing of maids.”

“Mm, nn, Master...!”

Claude’s fingers slide under his panties, pulling the fabric between his cheeks. It rubs up against his shaft, an insufficient tease, making Dimitri drool while he tries to hump the bed. 

“Full bodied.” Squeeze. “Fresh like spring.” Squeeze. “Fuck, you’re exquisite.” Squeeeeze. It feels like Claude is leaving prints on his ass, even his waist when he holds him tight. Dimitri’s mouth drops open when Claude presses his hard cock against him, his panties so thin he can feel the shape and heat of him even through his slacks.

“P-Please,” he tries to whimper, tries to remember how to speak when the only word on his mind is _dick._

Claude doesn’t hear him, hissing out, “I’m supposed to get you ready for the king but fuck that crusty old bastard, he doesn’t deserve you. You’re too good for him. Too good for him and that absentee husband of yours.”

Oh, gods. Dimitri’s entire body quakes, cock dripping from being compared to a trophy, something pretty to be won. He cries out mindlessly when Claude humps his backside, the fabric of his fly deliciously rough. 

“I’m taking you,” he growls out, fingers slipping between his cheeks to press against his cloth covered hole. “I already decided.”

 _Yes,_ Dimitri screams inside, _fuck me already!_

And then he does scream in loss when Claude pulls away, only to smack his ass, barking out, “Roll over!”

He practically throws himself, hairpiece flying off his head. Skirt hiked up past his hips. His cock red and twitching like it’s being shocked between his thighs, panties barely covering his hole. Claude looks so wild, all heated cheeks and burning eyes, and Dimitri is distracted by the shape of his cock, begging to be made free when Claude straddles him, hands brazenly grabbing his chest.

“You’ve had your sweet tits in my face all day,” he tsks, undoing Dimitri’s top buttons one by one. Dimitri squirms under him impatient, whining loudly when Claude takes his time. “Shh, you’re delectable, remember? I’m gonna savor you.” His apron prevents his top from being undone completely but it’s enough for Claude to slide his hands in, press his pecs together, groan low at his cleavage. 

“Hold on, wait, I want --!”

“You’re still working, remember?” 

He doesn’t stop groping his tits, treating Dimitri like a toy. His thumbs find his nipples and they pebble under his touch, hard and sensitive like his cock. Dimitri throws his head back in a wail when Claude twists them.

“I’ll come!”

“Go ahead, it’s obvious you’re starving for it. You’ve already made such a big mess.”

“N-No," he whines. "Want your cock, nn, want to come from your cock!” 

“Oh?” Dimitri’s never heard his voice darken like that, it has his toes curling inside his heels, his cock dripping with pearls. “You didn’t leave your house to work, did you? You came here for this.” His cock ruts against Dimitri’s stomach, so close and too far away. Dimitri’s body thrashes under him, nearly rocking him off. 

Claude saves face with a laugh, hands leaving his chest to undo his fly. His cock pokes out of the gap, hard and right in front of Dimitri’s face. 

“Smell it,” he says. “You made me smell that bastard husband’s cologne all day. He thought claiming you would keep me away but he thought wrong.”

“Mmph...” Dimitri doesn’t need to be asked, mouth flooding wet with Claude’s musk in his nose. Hungry for any way he can have him in his body, he cranes his neck to suck the head into his mouth. For three glorious seconds he’s sated but then he’s pushed back down, Claude’s palm against this brow.

“I didn’t tell you to suck it, sugar.”

“Then hurry up, put it in me!”

Claude swears, his composure cracking rapidly. His hand suddenly dives into his pocket and he pulls out a glass vial filled with oil. Dimitri’s wild fingers impatiently rip through the front of his panties, leaving Claude to laugh breathless and strung out. Two slick fingers slide into his hole, prepping him quick and fast. Dimtri holds up his own leg, moaning loudly, feeling a third finger sink in. 

He’s forgotten his outfit, forgotten the entire afternoon of being teased, can only think about Claude filling him at long last and his fingers grab the back of his sleek waistcoat when his cock finally stuffs him full. 

Dimitri’s hole clutches him like he can squeeze the life out of him and Claude swears, hiking his other leg over his shoulder, carrying Dimitri’s weight with the adrenaline only a good fuck can give. 

“F-Fuck, s-sugar, aw gods -- sweetheart…!”

He slips, back in the realm of endearments Dimitri enjoys and Dimitri doesn’t care, chants, “Master!” under him, prompting Claude to fuck him faster, make their bed a squeaking creaking symphony, accompanied by their skin slapping, Dimitri shrieking, shrieking, shrieking until they’re both coming, Dimitri holding onto Claude tight enough to bruise.

They’re both quiet while they catch their breath. Dimitri is brought back to reality with Claude’s hand on his cheek and a smile on his face.

“Hey there, where's my kiss?”

Dimitri giggles, of all things, tugging him in for the kiss he missed too.

“Mmm, Dima…”

“You were magnificent.”

Claude laughs, “You should tell yourself that. You got really into it, Dima. You were so cute.”

“You're one to talk. I could have smacked you.”

Claude laughs again with that familiar twinkle in his eye. “I know. I saw your wrist twitch a few times. Thanks for holding back, I don’t think that sleazy master of the house would have been able to fight back.”

“Pfft. It was fun, though I felt silly at times.”

Dimitri frowns a little when Claude softens up too much to stay inside him but then Claude is rearranging them, curling around him properly. Strong arms holding him tightly. Dimitri burrows into his embrace. 

“You’ve gotten much better at acting, even if you think you looked silly.”

“Hm… Did all of your schemes go according to plan?” He’d gone above and beyond to set everything up, and only for a few hours of play… Dimitri has known him for over a decade now and he still surprises him. 

“Oh, uh.” Claude looks away out of habit, thinking of some way to deflect. 

Dimtri catches him with a nip to his bottom lip. Claude’s nose scrunches up adorably. 

“Hey! Okay, okay! I hadn’t planned on spanking you… but you got me so worked up, I needed to vent a little. When you stick your ass out at me on a normal day I’ll drop anything to get a nice squeeze in.”

Ask and you shall receive… Dimitri colors predictably, blush pink on his cheeks. “Ah,” he says eloquently. “All right then.”

“No, no, don’t be embarrassed.” He kisses Dimitri’s temple, wiping away sweat with the side of his hand. “Mm, I didn’t plan on the husband angle being such a hit. I half expected that to annoy you.”

“Annoy me…?” Dimitri pauses, trying to sort out his feelings on that particular… storyline. “We were playing but… I still ended up describing you. And I was with you, so I did not feel like I was being unfaithful.” He can be the serious sort… but Claude has opened him up to new ideas, fantasies in the bedroom that can be what they want. He flushes, embarrassed. “I’m sorry you had to worry about me overreacting over nothing.” 

“You don’t listen,” Claude snorts. Peppering his warm cheeks with kisses. “My stubborn lion.”

“Yes.”

“All right, I know when to concede defeat.”

“You do not.”

“Wow!” Claude sits back on his heels, looking silly and relaxed, pulling a smile to Dimitri’s face. “Let’s get into the bath, sweetness. I have some saghert and cream coming to the room in half an hour.”

“Oh!”

Claude grins at his delight, grabbing his hands to help him and his shaky legs out of bed.

“I’m impressed. Your outfit is mostly in one piece. Should we save it for another game?”

“...perhaps.”

“Oooh, Dima. What’s that thought? I see it. I see it hiding behind your tongue.”

“...perhaps next time, the master of the house and the new maid can have a… secret relationship?” 

“Are you asking me to nail you in a closet?”

“W-What?”

“Do you want me to nail you in a closet?”

“...let’s get to the bath, darling.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find Blues on twitter [over here.](https://twitter.com/otomeprotag)
> 
> And find me on twitter [right here.](https://twitter.com/diarthrosis)


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